Of Witches, Magic, and Unsubs
by Alyssa James
Summary: Ange Ushiromiya's family is still missing. The Rokkenjima murders are still unsolved. Beatrice is still playing her twisted game with Battler. And, if that wasn't bad enough, the BAU is called to Rokkenjima to catch a killer. If she doesn't kill them, the Meta-World most likely will.
1. Chapter 1

"_It is my feeling that Time ripens all things; with Time all things are revealed; Time is the father of truth." —Francois Rabelais_

XXX

"So let me get this straight. You're saying that you would like us to help you investigate the murders of your family?"

"Yes," the answer was small and quiet, but her voice held the authority of someone much older. Agent David Rossi had to keep reminding himself that this was in fact a young woman asking for his help. Still, he felt as though he was talking to a brick wall; she barely answered anything he said, and when she did it was either 'yes' or 'no.' It was starting to wear him thin.

"Um, Miss, do you understand what the BAU is?" Silence. God awful silence and Rossi debated not for the first time whether or not it would be unprofessional to hit his head against the desk.

"I'm afraid I do not understand," she finally said, her apathetic expression breaking to show her bit of confusion. "Do you not help people? I was told you are very good at what you do."

Rossi sighed, but nodded tiredly. "That's correct, I suppose. But you see… we help with catching and apprehending criminals. BAU stands for Behavioral Analysis Unit. We're profilers and to catch criminals, we make profiles. What you're asking us to do is to go to an island where we have no jurisdiction," Rossi made sure to emphasize this point, but whether she really understood was another issue entirely, "and solve a cold case that's been dead for twenty-one years. Even if we did find anything, it wouldn't be viable in court. So I am not sure why you traveled half-way around the world to ask for our assistance."

The girl seemed to ponder this, her eyes taking on a calculating light. Finally, after minutes had ticked by, the girl leveled her gaze with Rossi and said in possibly the deadest tone he had ever heard, "I simply wish to understand what had happened to my family. Do you know what it feels like, knowing they'll never come back?" She gave Rossi a moment to ponder this before she continued, "I am not asking you to apprehend any criminals. I simply wish to know what had happened to my family. My entire family, slaughtered in one night…" And though her voice did not change, one lone tear fell down her cheek, hitting the desk with an audible plop. But, like everything else, whether or not she noticed this was up to anyone's guess.

Rossi sighed. "I understand your concerns Miss, but what about the local Japanese police? Couldn't they help you just as well? Have you ever thought of getting in touch with the original investigators of the case? I'm sure they could shed much more light on this than we could—"

"NO!" the girl vehemently spat out, for once losing that composure that Rossi had just started getting used to. Noticing her blunder, she covered her mouth with a delicate hand, her sea blue eyes widening in disbelief. Rossi filed this reaction away for later use, idly wondering why she was so adamant that the BAU accompany her to Rokkenjima Island.

He'd heard about Rokkenjima. It'd been years, but he had heard of it when he began practicing to become an officer for the FBI. They were required to research about unsolved cases throughout the world and his professor had assigned him Rokkenjima Island. According to sources, there had been a family by the name of Ushiromiya that owned the island. They were a rather wealthy family and had a huge manor dedicated to the head of the family, Kinzo.

Their deaths were simple enough. Every single member of that family had died horrific deaths. Insides blown up, heads crushed, blood covering once magnificent furnishings… it was like something out of a _Saw_ movie. Even now, Rossi had some difficulty recalling those images without feeling sick.

But the deaths weren't even the strangest part. Apparently, two bits of evidence were found, the only evidence that police officers had been lucky to find at all.

They was one letter written by someone of the name Maria Ushiromiya. She had been the youngest member there, roughly five or six, and in her letter, she talked about the 'Golden Witch' and solving an 'epitaph.' Rossi had no clue what the Golden Witch referred to, but he knew that the epitaph referred to a riddle at the base of a large portrait in the house. The portrait was of a young, fairly attractive young woman with beautiful golden hair and eyes as blue and clear as oceans in the Bahamas.

Rossi, along with the leading investigators, had no idea who this woman was. Kinzo had been divorced, so it wasn't possibly his wife. Of course, she could have been a lover, but Rossi knew there was more to it than that. And that letter didn't help matters; in it, it said,

_By the time you have read this, I will probably be dead._  
_The only difference will be whether there is a body or not._  
_You who have read this—_  
_Please find out the truth._  
_That's my only wish._

—Maria Ushiromiya

Rossi was sure he had looked over this letter ten, twenty, thirty times, but it didn't make any sense. How did she know about her death? Assuming this happened after the unsub presented himself, it was possible that she had escaped before being killed. But if that was the case, why was there no blood on the document? And what she mean, 'whether there is a body or not?' Did she mean her body would get hidden? Or did it mean—

"Plus," the girl said, effectively cutting off Rossi's train of thought, "I will pay you much money to help me shed light on this incident." During this, her bit of an accent came out and made it more noticeable that she was Japanese. Rossi refused to answer and the girl huffed, a little angrily, as she stared Rossi down. "Whether you like it or not, Agent Rossi, I will not be leaving until you say yes."

Rossi sighed for what seemed the thousandth time this meeting. Somehow, he didn't see himself getting out of this before lunch.

XXX

A dark, almost black eyebrow quirked, the stone-like features of his face hard and calloused, as he continued to watch the interview through the two-way glass. Agent Aaron Hotchner was the leading agent at the BAU located in Quantico, Virginia, a special wing of the FBI that caught criminals by making profiles of them. It was rather taxing, but nothing was more taxing than this current interview.

A Miss Ange Ushiromiya had come to the BAU in the wee hours of the morning in nothing but an abused shirt, an old tattered skirt, and her two hair clips. She had stated that she was twenty-five and had some urgent business to discuss with them. Rossi, being the first agent here, took her in and began questioning her.

That was nearly six hours ago.

Hotch could see his partner getting slightly agitated by her aloof nature, along with the fact that she wasn't familiar with the BAU. It seemed that this girl did not understand that they weren't just cops; they were profilers. And profilers, no matter how prolific, did not go to an island half-way across the globe to open up a cold case.

Still, despite Hotch's obvious dislike for her request, he was also semi-interested at what she had to say. Like many profilers, Hotch had heard about the murders at Rokkenjima, a small island owned by the Ushiromiya family. They had all been brutally murdered and the only one who survived had been Eva Ushiromiya, one of the daughters of the head, Kinzo. Profilers from all around the world battled with theories, but in the end, nobody had any clue how nearly an entire family had been slaughtered in one night.

There had been so much blood. Years of desensitizing pictures had left Hotch immune, but he could understand why they made so many other agents sick. It wasn't right; some of the bodies weren't even recognizable after their deaths. Some were bludgeoned like cows… others had easier fates as holes through their chests… and some, it appeared had killed themselves…

And no matter what happened, no one was any the wiser. Hotch had heard multiple theories; ones involving that an unknown unsub had done it, while others seemed adamant that the only surviving member, Eva Ushiromiya, was the culprit. Hotch didn't know what to believe and for a man that based his life around catching criminals, this was a huge blow to him.

"Hotch?"

Peeling himself away, Hotch stared at who had called his name. It was a wiry kid, with dark hair that fell just to his shoulders and a pair of glasses precariously placed on the bridge of his nose. In his one hand, he held a tattered copy of Poe's works and the other was almost right on his gun. No matter what happened, it was simple to see that Spencer Reid did not like carrying a gun.

"What is it, Reid?" he asked, his expression barely changing as Reid attempted to look into the interrogation room. Hotch quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing except for, "If you don't mind, we're in the middle of an interview right now."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Do we have a new case? Because I don't remember you saying—" Reid stopped as he noticed Rossi exit, the woman still sitting. Staring at her, he realized that she looked… familiar. Where had he seen her before?

Hotch noticed Rossi as well and turned, saying, "Are you finished?" When Rossi didn't respond, Hotch sighed and said, "You're not done, are you?"

"Nope," he replied curtly, his eyes flickering back between the woman and Hotch. After a moment, he said, "I understand where she's coming from, I really do. But to travel to an island to investigate a cold case outside of the states?" His eyes met Hotch's and he continued, "I'm sorry to say, but I think she's a little crazy."

As Hotch and Rossi had their conversation, Reid's mind was spinning, systematically going through his knowledge in order to place a name with the woman's face. A few seconds later, he suddenly realized why she looked so familiar and his eyes widened.

She was Ange Ushiromiya, one of the only surviving members of the Ushiromiya family.

Ignoring Rossi and Hotch, he made his way to the interrogation room, his curiosity outweighing his caution. Quietly slipping inside, he made his way over to the woman when she suddenly said, "Please Agent Rossi, tell me that you have good news—" She stopped dead as she noticed Reid for the first time. He was not Agent Rossi.

Reid, after a moment, awkwardly extended his hand and said, "Hello, my name is Doctor Reid. I am one of the leading profilers for the BAU."

The girl stared at his hand as though it was the plague before tentatively taking it. "My name," she started, her gaze narrowing slightly, "is Ange Ushiromiya. I assume Agent Rossi already told you why I was here?"

"No, but I can guess," Reid said, grabbing a seat across from Ange. "You're here to ask us for help in solving the Rokkenjima murders, correct?" At Ange's incredulous face, Reid continued, "I, um, used to research the murders when I was younger. The mystery of those murders was one of the reasons that I wanted to become an agent."

Ange opened her mouth to reply, to say something and rebuke him, but she could not find her voice. Finally, after gaping like a fish for what seemed like eternity, Ange recomposed herself and said with more bravado than she felt, "Yes, you are correct. But you see… Agent Rossi has turned down my request thus far. That man seems quite…" She paused as she began thinking of the correct word.

"Pigheaded," she finally finished, her tone so serious that Reid laughed. Of all the things for her to say…! But it was true; Rossi had a tendency to be quite "pigheaded." He was definitely a lot more laid back than Gideon, but he still was rather serious and was such a precocious neat freak that the other members often mocked him for his compulsiveness. At the thought of Gideon, Reid felt a stab of pain go through his heart and for second, he spaced out.

"Dr. Reid?"

Snapping back into reality, Reid noticed a ridiculously soft hand cupping his face, her own set in worry. Her blue eyes, something as dark as the ocean, but somehow still managed to reflect light, contrasted sharply with her surprising red hair and pale skin, making her look… definitely not Japanese.

Just as Reid felt himself being lost in those eyes, someone cleared their throat in the room. Hotch had entered, his eyes taking in the scene, giving Reid one of his famous 'We'll talk about this later' looks. Heat rushing to his face, Reid quickly stood up, in retrospect a little too quickly. Just as he stood, the table clattered and hit Ange in the chin, causing her to groan.

"_K-kuso_," she cursed, for once forgetting her English as pain erupted in her chin. She glared at Reid, her glare so venomous that Reid barely stuttered an apology before rushing out of the room.

"Quite some flirting you got there," Rossi remarked dryly, though his eyes were twinkling. "Falling in love with a Japanese woman, are we?"

At the tone of Rossi, Reid flipped his face and met the slightly smirking agent before replying flippantly, "I was not flirting." _Yes you were_, a voice in the back of his head mocked, but he quickly quelled it. "Flirting or coquetry is a playful action involving verbal communication and body language, indicating a deeper relationship with the other person (1). She was simply seeing if I was all right." At Rossi's leering expression, Reid felt his face flare, but instead of humoring the agent any further, he changed the subject. "Speaking of Miss Ushiromiya, though… what do you think about her proposition?" At that, Rossi's expression settled for a scowl. Seeing Reid was serious, Rossi sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"I don't think it's a good idea," he conceded at last. "We've got plenty of murders here; why go to an island to discover a few more?"

"But we haven't had a case in almost three days." That was rather strange, especially for the BAU. The states had nearly serious crime occurring on a daily basis, so not having a case was running some of them thin. Garcia continued to play her role-playing games, but the fact that no cases had reared their ugly heads was affecting her immensely. JJ was actually able to do paperwork, something she absolutely despised; Morgan had been working out and practicing his shots more and more; and Prentiss… well, Reid wasn't sure what Prentiss was doing. It was sometimes hard to understand what Prentiss was doing. "Are you scared that we couldn't handle this?

"Reid," Rossi warned, "that's not the point and you know it. It's just… well, what if we leave and there _**is **_a case?" Reid was silent, so Rossi took this as a sign to continue. "And even if we decided to go, the one who would get the last word would most definitely be Strauss. And knowing that woman, she probably would laugh before telling Hotch to put us back to work."

"Then at least let's talk to Strauss," Reid pleaded. Rossi simply shook his head and Reid thought the argument was lost.

Until said woman entered the BAU headquarters, her usually languid gait hurried and rushed. Her face was set in a hard line, even though her clothes were impeccably kept, and the two agents recognized that face almost instantly. They had a case.

"Morning, Agent Rossi, Dr. Reid," her brusque voice washed over them. "Doing well, I hope?"

The two agents did not answer this question, but there was no need to. Strauss had already entered the interview room. She gave one glance at Ange and then turned to Hotch before gesturing outside with the point of her finger, her moves angry and forced. Hotch followed the head agent out, leaving Ange alone once again in the interrogation room.

Before Hotch could even speak, Strauss pointed her finger at Ange and said, "Who is she?" There was something… strange about her tone, Reid noticed, almost like she was nervous. Scared. Nervous or scared of what, though, Reid did not know. The only possible answer was she was scared of Ange. But why? Could it be money? Power? Was she afraid that the BAU was interrogating a suspect that was actually quite influential? Giving a quick look at the disheveled form known as Ange Ushiromiya, Reid somehow doubted that.

So, it had to be something else. But what? Before Reid could analyze this further, Strauss impatiently waved her hand and said, "It's unimportant," though that fearful look still remained and Reid wondered, not for the first time, what was going on in the blonde's head. Turning towards Hotch, she said, "I came to tell you t that we have a new case opening up. According to Interpol, a suspected terrorist has fled the country and they are asking us to apprehend her. Now, usually this wouldn't be a BAU case, but this terrorist has also been a suspect in the murders of twenty influential families located on the east coast."

"Why haven't we heard about this until now?"

Strauss leveled a virulent glare at him before she sighed and said, "Interpol was originally in charge of the case. However, after light of some certain… complications, they can no longer continue investigating until everything is cleared up. They did not, however, wish to lose the trail of the terrorist and so, they have asked the FBI to send something like…" She seemed to think for a moment before the right word came to her. "Placeholders."

Hotch and Rossi both exchanged glances. Something was not right about this, they decided, as they took in Strauss' manic form and clipped, robotic speech. There was something she was not saying, but what? They knew Interpol or at least, they knew of them. Interpol was one of the main CIA branches that dealt with international criminals and terrorists. There was no way they trusted the FBI, something most of them considered above, to watch a suspected terrorist who had left the country. Interpol was everywhere; so what was so damn important that they couldn't send _**any**_ agents to watch a terrorist?

"May I ask, then, where this terrorist," he shared another glance with Hotch, "may be?"

Strauss, seemingly happy with their answer, straightened up and said, "One of the most infamous islands in way of the Pacific; Rokkenjima." All the agents' eyes widened slightly. Rokkenjima? Quickly, Reid gave Ange a look, almost like he expected her to say, "Got you!" But instead, Ange simply stared ahead, a severe look of concentration on her face.

"What about cases here? Shouldn't we stay in case one shows up?"

Reid hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud until the three senior agents turned towards him. Stuttering slightly, he said, "The cases here take top priority. Even if we caught a criminal in a different country, we still wouldn't have any jurisdiction and as such, nothing would be municipal in court. Plus, Interpol is huge. What's so important that they can't even manage to catch a single terrorist on a deserted island?"

Rossi gave Reid a look close to admiration, while Hotch kept his gaze even and unperturbed. The strangest, however, was Strauss. At Reid's analysis, Strauss' teeth clenched and her fist continued to close and open, almost like she was trying to comfort herself. Or not kill Reid. It could be both, Reid decided, as the head agent reined in her emotions and gave Reid an icy smile.

"My, my, how perceptive you are," she cooed, her tone acrid and biting. Calming down some more, she continued, "Dr. Reid, I assure you, if this was not a BAU top priority, I would not be here right now."

"But—"

"I am your head agent," she said simply. "Don't make me write you up for insubordination." At the look of silent defeat on Reid's face, Strauss turned to Hotch and said, "You are preparing to leave tomorrow. I expect you to go over the details of the case tonight. And please, Agent Hotchner," she sent one last scathing glance at Reid before saying, "control your agents."

Then she left and the BAU wondered what they had gotten into.

XXX

Emily Prentiss was not having a good day.

It wasn't one of those, 'Oh, I spilled coffee on my lap, got only three hours of sleep, and got hit on by the creepy guy down at the coffeehouse' kind of days. No, it was more, 'I missed the chance to capture an international terrorist' kind of days.

According to her sources inside Interpol, they apparently were looking for a woman by the name of Fredericka Johansen AKA the Golden Witch of Cambodia. She was a notorious criminal in nearly sixty different countries, two territories, and one strange pirate smuggling operation. This woman was armed and dangerous, with the ability to shoot two guns at the same time and enough ammo to take out a small platoon. With this method, she had avoided capture for nearly twenty years.

She had just recently hit New York. Philadelphia. Miami. Places where the crime rate was extremely high and where the police wouldn't notice a few extra bodies. Well, at least, that had probably been the plan. But somehow, political families had gotten in the crossfire. Governors, Senators, Representatives—all of them, along with their families, were killed. Shot dead with two effective, simply shots. Most likely, it looked like gang murders that had gotten careless. Or fearless. She was surprised that the BAU hadn't been called in to investigate. But then again, the police most likely didn't see the connections so they had no need to call the BAU.

But apparently, Fredericka had. She noticed the trail of Interpol vapors as they followed her and like any smart criminal, she left the country. Fled, actually, to a remote island off the Japanese coast by the name of Rokkenjima. It was completely abandoned, sure, but somehow Prentiss doubted that she had picked it randomly. Fredericka worked alone, so the possibility of allies being on that island was slim to none. But to not pick it randomly and have no allies… was she simply biding her time at a base? Or did she have a plan to dispel the Interpol agents from her trail?

Of course, Prentiss also had to think that maybe it was a trap. After all, this was a notorious criminal. If she's been doing this for as long as twenty years, she should be godlike at masking her trail. But the fact that Interpol knew exactly where she went was a little disconcerting. The fact that Interpol had found her trail so quickly made it very likely that she didn't want to be hidden.

_But why Rokkenjima?_ Prentiss thought, leaning back in her chair as she balanced a pencil on her nose. Just like other agents, she had heard about the Ushiromiya murders. One night, a terrible storm had blocked the ferry to the island, leaving an entire family stuck inside. By the next day, when the ferry had arrived, the only one who had survived was Eva Ushiromiya. She had been found on the beach, covered in blood and half-dead, mumbling incoherently about a 'Golden Witch.' The rest of her family had been murdered the previous night by an unknown unsub—

Prentiss' thoughts did a 360 as her mind processed what she had said. Golden Witch. Wasn't that ironic, she mused, that the name of the murderer on Rokkenjima was the exact same name of the alias of an international terrorist? It fit with her profile too; the Ushiromiyas, though not well-known in the US before their deaths, were rather wealthy and influential in Japan. Killing them would have been no different than killing the families here.

But how to know? Golden Witch could be a common monomer. The only way to discern this was to open up a line of communication that Prentiss hadn't used in nearly twenty years. Grabbing her coat, she gave a quick nod and smile to passing agents before she made it outside. Once there, she went to a payphone and dialed a number that she hadn't used in forever.

A slight, pleasant Russian lady's voice greeted her. "You are accessing channel line 662789. Number of identification please?"

"784532, accessing Powers extension," Prentiss replied, her voice hard and worn as the woman on the other end gave a sound of agreement before connecting.

"Extension number 345692 accessed. Powers extension secure at ninety percent."

Prentiss nodded, but then realized that the woman couldn't see her. "Yes, thank you," she replied curtly before the line clicked off and a familiar voice filled Prentiss' ear.

"Emily! Emily, is that you?" At the lack of communication, the woman on the other end cried a sigh of relief. "Oh, Emily, it's been so long! I have been—what word do you use?—ah, worried." She laughed a little before suddenly a thought came to her. Why was Emily calling? Sobering up, she asked, "But you did not call to catch up, did you? I assume that you heard about the Golden Witch and her appearance in the states, as well as Rokkenjima. Is that why you are calling?"

Prentiss, despite using this extension, smiled at the woman and her mile-a-minute mannerisms. It was amusing to think about; this woman was one of the most intelligent members of Interpol, an Annaliese Von Croy. She had been helping Prentiss during her missions for the past eight years and had even secured a spot for her in the BAU. She was a master manipulator and her IQ was at the level of a neuroscientist.

She also was the leading agent in the hunt for the Golden Witch. Or, as it was more affectionately called, the 'Witch Hunt.'

"It's good to hear from you too, Annaliese," she replied. "I just recently heard about the Golden Witch and her escape. I called to see what you knew about that."

She could imagine Annaliese twirling the long, outdated telephone cord in her hands, something of a nervous habit as she thought over her answer. Finally, she said, "Not that much, I'm afraid. All we know is that she made a mad dash for Rokkenjima when she got just a whiff of Interpol." A pause. "It's strange though; usually she is never scared so easily. And the fact that she hadn't covered her tracks is in itself a little worrisome. But I assume you already determined that for yourself?"

"Yes."

Annaliese chuckled slightly. "I should have thought as much. Well, what is it you need to know?"

Prentiss pretended to think for a moment before replying, "I've heard about the attacks on the coast. What were the details?" At Annaliese's silence, she sighed. "They're confidential, aren't they?"

"I'm afraid so," she said, her voice apologetic. "What I can tell you is that five influential families were attacked. Sources have confirmed that the Golden Witch was the assailant, but measures were never taken because of Interpol's involvement." She seemed to ponder something; then, "Why do you want to know?"

Prentiss knew this was loaded question. Friend or not, Annaliese was still an agent of Interpol. If someone was chasing a target, it was in the company's best interests to put a stop to it quickly and efficiently. So she settled for, "The BAU was contacted because of the deaths on the coast. I recognized the MO, but I wanted to make sure before we…"

"Before you what?"

Prentiss cleared her throat slightly. "Before we get in over our heads. I might not still be an agent, but I am part of this team. And…" she paused for a moment as she collected her thoughts, "You owe me a favor. Remember Istanbul?"

Prentiss heard a choked sound on the other end. Smiling, she knew she had her.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked. "Istanbul was… I mean, it—look, fine, I guess I do owe you a favor." She didn't sound happy about that in the slightest. "Fredericka already has left the country, but she has made it to the island of Rokkenjima. The island belongs to someone though. It belongs to Ange Ushiromiya, a young Japanese woman who just turned twenty-five this year. Contact her. As for the deaths on the coast… there were five families. I'll fax the names to you, but please do not get in the way of Interpol. I won't be able to protect you if someone deems your team detrimental."

Prentiss nodded. "I understand fully. Thank you for your support."

The line went dead.

XXX

"You're serious?"

Agent Rossi wondered how she could go from perfectly aloof to angry to excited. Was this woman bi-polar? "Yes, I am." _Unfortunately_, he added silently, not wanting to offend the wealthy girl. "Would tomorrow suffice?"

Ange nodded her head vigorously. "Of course, of course! I can prepare transportation for you—"

"No worries," Rossi grunted. "We have a jet. A nice, fast jet that should get us there quicker than some shoddy boat." Plus, not like he would admit this, but boats scared him. The jet, at least, would get them there with the lower likelihood of them dying. That was a plus, especially for an FBI agent.

"I understand," she said. "Please send my regards to Agent Hotchner and… Dr. Reid." Had Rossi not been a profiler for ten years, he would've missed her curious tone. Standing up, she went to bow, but then thought better of it and extended her hand. "Then, Agent Rossi, I will see you tomorrow. Please accept my deepest thanks and sincerest happiness."

Rossi nodded and led Ange out of the interrogation room. _That went better than I thought_, he mused, watching Ange as she waved at the passing officers, her attitude blithe and carefree. Of course, he hadn't mentioned the real reason they were going to Rokkenjima and that was, it seemed, to catch a killer. The team didn't even know about it either, but with Hotch's expression, they would soon enough. It was only a matter of time.

But for some reason, Rossi couldn't shake the fact that something was going to happen. Something terrible.

XXX

"Goodbye, Agent Rossi!" Ange waved. "I will see you tomorrow!"

Rossi waved back tentatively before going inside. Ange kept smiling at the same spot for a few more moments (in case Rossi came back out) before her smile fell from her face and her eyes narrowed. The sweet, caring, distraught young woman slipped away like a Halloween costume and left Ange feeling bitter. Empty. Victorious.

Suddenly, Ange heard something akin to the ripping of fabric. The noise was soft and barely noticeable, but years and years of magical practice had left Ange attuned. She turned her head slightly, glaring, as a flurry of golden butterflies swiveled around until a figure was revealed.

It was a woman, no taller than Ange, with cascading onyx hair that fell like a waterfall down her back. Her eyes were a dead purple and her mouth was set in a hard line as she gave one look at the BAU headquarters.

Finally, after what seemed like five eternities, the woman turned her attention back to Ange and said, "_I take it the interview went well_." She smirked as Ange glowered at her precociousness. "_Please do not be mad, Ange-Beatrice. This is all simply part of the game."_

"_I know_," she huffed. "_But how do I know you won't go back on your word, Bernkastel? You're not the most reliable, after all."_

"_That is true_," she conceded. "_But you do wish to see your family again, no?"_

"_You're starting to sound like Lamberdelta_."

Bernkastel chuckled. Then, like a child, she jumped up, defying gravity and flew around Ange. "_That may be, but you are starting to act like me."_

"_It's because I have no other choice_," Ange conceded, though she found she couldn't meet the elderly witch's eyes. _"I want my family back. It doesn't matter what happens; I will bring them back."_ For a moment, Bernkastel was slightly surprised by the fire in Ange's eyes.

Only slightly though.

"_Only if they win the game_," Bernkastel said. "_Geniuses or not, humans are no match for witches. Why, the last time I talked to Battler-kun—"_

"_Magic is not real_," Ange said, her glare growing intensely at the witch. "_I know that and Brother knows that. Even if these people fail_," her face said that she did not want this to happen, "_he will return by his own power. Someday."_

Bernkastel yawned, clearing not impressed with her answer. "_Well, Ange-Beatrice_," she mused, her tone dead, "_I hope you find what you're looking for. Because miracles can't happen for the dead_." With one last sadistic look at Ange, she disappeared in a flurry of butterflies, leaving Ange completely alone.

And with that, she left and Ange wondered if she hadn't made a big mistake in recruiting the BAU to help rescue her family.

Shrugging her shoulders, she walked to the curb and hailed a cab, not surprised to see her driver at all. _"Did things go well, Ushiromiya-sama?"_ the driver asked amicably. Ange nodded, not in the mood to talk, but the driver was not offended. He started the car up and drove away, while Ange had to keep herself from yelling at him to go back so she could warn him. But in the end, like any other game, she simply sighed and looked out the window.

Only time would tell if her choice had been the right one.

XXX

Author's Notes:

(1)—  wiki/Flirting

Anything in italics is in Japanese. Kuso is a generic curse.

Please review and tell me what you think! I spent hours upon hours working on this story for the past week and it would be wonderful if someone would give me feedback!


	2. Chapter 2

_There is no great genius without a mixture of madness._

_ —Aristotle—_

XXX

**Chapter 2**

"Bern~ I wanna go play~ This is so _boring_."

Bern simply smirked before recomposing her face into that calloused, uncaring persona she was known for. "You must be patient, Lambda. Playtime can wait. The game is about to get interesting."

Lambda simply huffed in annoyance. "That's what you said the last time Bern. And Ange is about as wet a blanket as you can get." She narrowed her blood red gaze as Bernkastel ignored her and went back to watching the game, not even having the decency to answer. "Hey! Aren't you listening to me?!"

Bernkastel peeled her gaze away from the game and glared at Lambdadelta. Though she was as old as Bernkastel, she looked nearly six centuries younger. With her childlike demeanor, short blonde hair pulled back with ribbons, and dark pink eyes, she looked quite young. And demented. Why, Bernkastel mused, she reminded her of a certain person from one of her previous games. But still, there was no need for her rudeness.

"Ange-Beatrice is a critical piece in this game. If you cannot respect that, I suggest you leave. Maybe you can force another soul into one of your twisted games." Lambdadelta narrowed her eyes, but much to her credit, didn't reply.

"Fine. But all I'm saying is that if this doesn't get interesting in the next few days, I will leave." And, in a lower tone, "And maybe I will find a new game. Sometimes you really are boring Bern."

XXX

"Baby girl, you gotta wake up." Penelope Garcia heard the voice somewhere in her deep subconscious, what with its consistency like honey and sonorous breath, and recognized it almost instantly. It was Derek Morgan, her colleague and, just recently, boyfriend. They had been dating for the past two weeks, but no matter how hard she thought about it, she could never get her head around the idea that he was interested in her. It made her happy, in a way, and she wondered if they would ever get married.

That didn't mean she was going to be any less recalcitrant though. Swatting away his probing hand, she snuggled deeper into her arms, like a young child refusing to get out of bed, and mumbled something along the lines of 'Get away from me, you knave.' Morgan simply chuckled, a sound that sent warm butterflies through her stomach, and leaned closer to the technical analyst.

"Penelope," he purred, the breath hitting her ear making her breath hitch. "Baby girl, you have got to get up. I'll get you a new video game if you do—," Before Morgan even finished, Garcia popped up and eyed him excitedly, the fog of sleep nearly forgotten.

"You would?! That's the most romantic thing you've ever said!"

Morgan laughed again and nodded. "I will. But first…" his laughing mood dissipated, "Hotch wants us. We have a new case but… it isn't like anything we've had before."

Garcia's eyes widened. "What do you mean, 'like anything we've had before'? Derek, what's going on?"

His brow furrowed, but he didn't offer anything except, "We have a meeting. Hotch'll tell us then, but please… be on your toes. And whatever you do," he gave her a surprisingly stern look, his chocolate brown eyes boring into her own vivid green ones, "don't fight with Hotch. Can you promise me that, baby girl?"

"Why would I fight wi—,"

"Promise me, baby girl. I need you to say it."

Penelope continued to look at her lover, confusion written all over her face. What was he saying? She never fought with Hotch, she'd never disagreed with him… well, okay, there was that one time where she refused to watch evidence because it was too gruesome, but Hotch should've understood that! Or there was also that one time where she had been the temporary liaison and had gone against his orders to not communicate with the press, but… Okay. Morgan had a point. She was a bit of spitfire.

And, despite all that, she trusted Morgan enough to think he knew what he was talking about. Giving the brightest smile she could muster, she nodded. "I promise, Derek. I won't fight with Hotch."

XXX

"The unsub we're looking for has recently evacuated the states. She was last seen on the east coast, nearly twenty miles away from Philadelphia."

All the agents were listening with rapt attention, only glancing down at their notes occasionally to keep up with Hotch's rapid fire pace. This is how it had been for the last ten minutes or so; after everyone had heard about the new case assignment, they'd filed in, somewhat eager and giddy at the thought of a new case. It was a morbid giddiness—something that made them want to have a case, but at the same time wanted no more people to be hurt by senseless violence.

Reid piped up. "According to police reports, she's killed nearly six influential families and attacked another fourteen—all resulting in comas or death. She's skilled in parkour, armed infiltration, a plethora of martial arts, and carries enough ammunition to supply a small platoon. Interpol has placed her as a top priority."

"Interpol?" Morgan asked, his brow furrowing. "Why would an intelligence agency be after a killer from the states? Or, better yet, why was there an Interpol suspect _in_ the states?"

Rossi and Hotch shared a look—a look that said, 'The cat's out of the bag now.' Clearing his throat, Rossi went to answer, but Hotch beat him to it, using that same no nonsense tone he was known for.

"She's a suspected terrorist on Interpol's watch list. Usually, this wouldn't be a BAU top priority, but because of the escalation and the brutality of the killings, we're being asked by Interpol to be—,"

Prentiss groaned. "Placeholders."

"That's about right."

Garcia, one who had still been debating Morgan's words quietly, looked between Emily and Hotch on her monitor, clearly confused. "What do you mean, 'placeholders'? I'm not sure I follow."

Prentiss sighed internally, but turned to face the technical analyst anyways. "If Interpol—or even any other intelligence agency—is unable to send agents on the field because of certain hazards, then they'll call in a replacement team. The replacement team then watches the suspect, making sure to keep him in as small an area as possible. The whole point is so the terrorist cannot escape and cause havoc anywhere else in the world. Basically… we're scapegoats."

Garcia's eyes widened. "B-but… when would Interpol not have enough agents? That seems a little odd."

Rossi sighed. "It **IS **a little odd, Garcia. But that's the thing—we don't know why or even how they ran out of agents. Besides, no matter our feelings on this, Strauss wanted us to take this case." Not like Rossi would say it, but he also was interested in this case. Not only because it was one of the most notorious cold cases in the past century, but also because Strauss had been so adamant about them taking it. Rossi—he suspected Hotch as well—knew this woman wasn't telling them everything. She was stressed, fearful, but somehow, excited… and Rossi knew he didn't like it, not one bit. If they wanted to figure why Strauss was acting so strange, they were going to have to take this case. No matter what the consequences.

Hotch nodded. "And as such, we need to go over the MO for the suspect. Her name's Fredericka Johansen, real name unknown, German born. The families she attacked—"

"—were influential families on the coast. Big name governors, Senators, even a few international billionaires—"

"—which shows the suspect has no fear or, at the very least, confidence. She has no preference either. Any race, any age, any gender… it doesn't matter. The only characteristic they share is wealth—"

"—so maybe she has had class issues, facing discrimination when she grew up. It's also possible—"

Rossi effectively cut off whoever was speaking. "That seems unlikely. Basing the fact that she's on Interpol's suspected terrorist list, she could be working for an employer paying for the deaths."

"So you think she's a hit man?"

He shook his head. "Not entirely… I mean, sure, she does hits, but more likely, she assassinates. That means that these families must have some connections to the underworld. And if she assassinates, then none of those twenty families should be alive."

Hotch interjected. "You think she let them live on purpose?"

Rossi waved his hand like he was waving the issue away. "That seems the most likely scenario. But why would she let them live, when she was hired to kill them?"

Reid gave a thoughtful hum. "Maybe she wasn't hired to kill them." At the confused looks from everyone in the room, Reid said, "It's possible that these families saw or heard something they weren't supposed to. To scare them from saying anything, she attacked them as well, but didn't kill them because they weren't on her payroll. That, at least, would explain why so many families had been attacked."

"The real question is," JJ said, placing her finger on her chin, "why did she attack the families that she did?"

The room went silent for a moment before it was broken by the snap of Reid's fingers. Quickly turning to the bright, quirky analyst, Reid said, "Garcia, do you think you could research the families she killed?"

"Do you want an excavation or a simple dusting?" Garcia asked, her eyes a lit with the numerous possibilities her technical toys presented her. She really enjoyed her job too much. Especially when it came to breaking into confidential government files.

"I want you to find every little detail, every piece of dirt that you can. It's possible they were all involved in the same operation, so see if you can find any similar details that would connect the families together."

Garcia gave a mock salute. "Aye-aye, sire. My wish is yours to command." And with that, the computer screen went blank.

There was still something bothering Emily though. "There's something strange about this case. She left the states, right?" Though she already knew, she had to pretend to be as clueless as she could be. Nobody had to know she was once an international Interpol agent. "Why? What purpose would she have, if she's so skilled? And why Rokkenjima of all places? Something just doesn't seem right about this."

Hotch nodded. "You're right—it is a bit strange that she left on her own accord, to an island that's been uninhabited for almost thirty years. It's possible she got scared off by Interpol agents—,"

Prentiss shook her head. "Not to disagree with you, but I don't think that's it either." She placed a finger on her chin, pretending to gather her thoughts before she eyed the original case report Hotch was holding. "Could I see that for a second?"

"Go ahead."

Prentiss flipped through the numerous pages, document after document, before she came upon what she wanted. She already knew most of this by heart (actually, she was happy to note that Hotch's report was much more thorough that Annaliese's) but no matter what, she couldn't blow her cover. Highlighting a single line, she handed the papers to Morgan. "Tell me what this line says."

He looked a little unsure, but continued anyways. "Another monomer for Fredericka Johansen is the Golden Witch…" At this, Rossi and Reid's eyes widened, their minds already connecting the dots.

Morgan glanced at Emily. "What does this mean?"

Exasperated, she said, "Are you familiar with the Rokkenjima murders?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Because—," But before Emily could finish, Reid was already taking the spot.

"Because the monomer for our unsub is the same name as the murderer of Rokkenjima."

XXX

"_Ah, Ushiromiya-sama,"_ her butler said, curiously watching her bored expression. _"We'll be arriving at the island soon."_

"_I see."_

"_I do suggest that you place your seatbelt on, Young Miss. The turbulence is sure to be quite horrid and it would be quite a shame if you were to hurt yourself before our guests arrived."_

Ange crossed her legs, debating whether or not to take his advice, before she sighed and clasped the belt against her small frame. Giving a glare to her butler, she said, _"Happy?"_

"_It is much better—yes, thank you."_

Ange glanced out the window, curiously watching the ocean lap to and fro at on infinitesimal islands, the small birds that flew so close she felt like she could touch them, the brightest blue sky illuminating her entire sight. She sighed; it really was such a pretty day.

What a pity.

Noticing her butler was still standing there, she said, slightly angry, _"Is there something you need?"_

The butler scratched the back of his head nervously, his deep brown eyes crinkling in debate._ "No…"_ He seemed to have stopped, almost like he was carefully choosing his words, before he continued. _"But is it wise that the Young Miss involves herself with… with…"_

Ange gave a click of impatience. _"Oh, get on with it. You were going to say murders, weren't you?"_ At her butler's slightly guilty expression, she bristled. _"I see. Well, I will have you know that I am not a child anymore. I can take care of myself perfectly well."_

"_But Young Miss…!"_

She silenced him with a glare. _"I am perfectly capable. Do you have no faith in me?"_

He crossed his heart, a sign of loyalty from the times of queens and kings, before he bowed down as low as his body was able. _"I have spoken out of place. I am sorry, Ange Beatrice-sama. Beatrice-sama and Erika-sama did not give me specific directions on how to help you fulfill your mission, but that is no excuse. A butler should always be privy to his mistress' mood and thoughts."_

Ange's glare softened, if only slightly. _"It's perfectly fine, Ronove. I'm not your master and the one who __**is**__ is a psychotic bitch of a woman. You don't have to apologize." _She waved her hand like she was waving bad air away. _"Now, about this Fredericka Johansen… what do you know of her?"_

Ronove's eyes narrowed and his body stiffened—only slightly though. He knew quite a good bit about the Johansen girl; German blood by birth, she was a capable and armed—dangerous—human woman who couldn't have been much older than Ange. Ronove snorted. Well, she was capable for a _human_ anyway. Against witches and demons, however, she was severely mismatched. She was just another implausible, reckless, murderous human being.

A murderous human being that happened to be the crucial piece to this game.

Ronove's thoughts were quick and precise as he said to Ange, _"Ah yes… the Johansen girl."_ He snapped his fingers as each fact floated up in gaudy yellow lettering, surrounding Ange like a sunset would the world. _"She's German born, around the Young Mistress' age, and is considered a dangerous opponent by humans throughout the globe. She—"_

"_That's not what I meant. No, what I wanted to know was what does Beatrice want with her?"_ Her eyes narrowed at Ronove's reluctance. _"You know, don't you? Or rather, if you didn't know I'd be a bit more shocked—"_

"_I am afraid I cannot answer that, Young Miss. This is part of the game and my orders. Beatrice-sama has forbidden me to talk about such vulgar topics, if you'd be so kind."_

"_Vulgar?"_

If Ronove had been a normal human butler, he would've face-palmed. Or, at the very least, he would've started sweating, avoiding the subject. But alas, being a demon butler, especially a top ranked one at that, had its perks. He didn't even flinch when Ange asked, _"Is Beatrice planning on… killing these profilers? Is that it? Or…"_ Her brow furrowed as numerous scenarios played out in her head. _"Or does she know they're going to die? Can she do stuff like that? I mean, see into the future?"_

"_I cannot say for it is not my place. If you must wonder, why don't you ask Beatrice-sama herself? We've arrived."_

Ange looked out the window, noticing the familiar island—from the withering flowers that hadn't received proper care since Kinzo's death, to the expanse of the unexplored, villainous forest that had, in some games, housed Beatrice, to the murky blue waters that looked almost as dead as Ange's family—this was home.

Of course, so was the large mansion that resided on the sandy beaches of the island. It was a large, fairly dilapidated structure—it hadn't seen any residents since that fateful night—with rotting wood and cockroaches that were probably the size of Ange's foot. The garden—or rather, what was left of it—circled around the house like a deathly veil, the dying leaves and branches given off a faint testament of that horrid night, like the Earth was destroying itself for the memory of those poor people. Really, why would an internationally wanted criminal want to come here? It was disgusting.

But Ange knew better. That calculating light came into her eyes again as she said,_ "Ronove, are you positive she's 'just a human?'" _

He did not feel the need to answer.

XXX

Just as Ange was talking to Ronove, a different scene was playing out on the island.

Humming. A woman was humming some unknown tune—it was beautiful, childish, wondrous.

Cruel.

She continued humming, watching with rapt amusement as a blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman entered the mansion, her gaze quickly travelling around the premises before she exhaled a sigh of relief and dropped her gun. Then, without uttering a single sound, she began taking out a multitude of guns, grenades, and throwing knives, all shining with the dark stains of something that was most definitely not water.

The woman chuckled. Really, humans were such cautious creatures. Why if she had even part of the power as the Golden Witch—! But no. That was not part of the game, not part of her agreement. And she always kept her word.

Always.

"Beatrice."

She did not answer, though she had heard the exasperated tone of the boy—rather, man. He was a man now, after playing so many games with her and Erika, after becoming a game master in his own right. He was the one and only Battler Ushiromiya, Beatrice's seemingly eternal opponent and one of the only survivors of the murders. He was a good man, this person.

It disgusted her.

Beatrice heard him sigh, something that was becoming all too common, before he said, "Beato."

At the sound of the familiar nickname, Beatrice smiled maliciously and said to Battler in the sweetest voice she could muster, "Oh, Battler-kun. Have you been well?" She noticed gleefully that Battler's hazel eyes narrowed in utmost hatred, his body becoming rigid. He ground his teeth together and Beatrice noticed, amused, that he was attempting to restrain himself from saying something to anger the Golden Witch. Really, he was too much. But that was the reason Beatrice—or any of the other witches for that matter—hadn't gotten bored with the human yet. He proved to be quite insightful, too entertaining to simply kill, much as Beatrice found herself wanting to do more the farther they progressed in a game. But she never acted on her instincts. Maybe it was God's cruel joke, the devil's amusement, but Beatrice had started to rather… _like_ the auburn-haired man. At that thought, she blushed. Really, what was wrong with her? She had a game to complete!

Battler, on the other hand, had no idea to the inner turmoil going on in the blonde's head. Instead, he was fuming for a different reason: it seemed like the witches—Erika, Bernkastel, and Lambdadelta to be exact—were planning on using Ange in another game. Usually, he wouldn't have been bothered that his future sister would be helping—no, used is a better term—him return their family to the world of the living. Point being, he wouldn't have cared. But lately, when Beatrice wasn't looking and Bernkastel was too busy, Lambdadelta would show him Ange—from her life to her house to even her lovers. Battler was happy for his sister, but at the same time, he had noticed that she was rather… withdrawn from the world, almost as if she was being cautious around an unknown dog. Though she might seem okay to everyone else, Battler could tell the deaths had hit her hard.

Especially with her going to the FBI for help. Assuming they followed the same protocol as the 1983 division, there really wasn't any reason for them to be involved with the Rokkenjima murders. They were not only across the world, but it was a cold case of nearly thirty years. Even the local police didn't want to get involved with it! But what was more shocking to Battler than anything else was their… not willingness, no that wasn't right; but the fact that they agreed baffled Battler beyond a doubt. _And,_ he thought, _it's making Beatrice too happy. She knows something. Though I'm a little afraid to think what that might be._

Of course, neither was privy to the other's thoughts. "I've been well, I suppose. Still… what are you planning? You're never quite this happy and frankly, it's a little disturbing."

Beatrice didn't just chuckle this time; she guffawed. "Oh Battler-kun! It seems I can never get anything past you!" Her laughing dissipated and her eyes narrowed. "Of course, if I told you about the game, well, it wouldn't be fun, would it?" She gave an amused snort. "And besides, you'll understand for yourself soon enough."

Battler didn't know what she meant. She was being cryptic, as per usual. What a shock.

That is, until he noticed something happening on the game board. The house, the damned witch's wonderland, though nothing physical had changed, the air had become different. Battler's brow furrowed. What…?

There! A movement—a door, to be exact. Slowly, so slowly, impossibly slow, the door creaked open, cautiously, very cautiously. Battler strained his eyes to see and was greeted with an impossible sight.

Ange. His sister, Ange… she was here. Her present-day, scorned and weary self was here. And behind her…

…were five people he had never seen before. And he had a sinking suspicion that they weren't realtors, either.

XXX

**Anything in italics is, again, Japanese. That's how it'll be from now on. **

**Another chapter complete. I'm sorry this took so long to get out, but things came up and I have a really bad sense of time. Still, I hoped you enjoyed it and can't wait to see you next chapter!**

**Stay tuned and review! And I would like to thank Madame Tiptory for her wonderful (and first!) review! I, too, am an Umineko/Criminal Minds lover, but it's unfortunate that there aren't many crossovers. Though I'm sorry this is still just setting the scene, the action should start next chapter (i.e. the game). If anybody has any suggestions for that, drop a review or PM me :D I'm not really sure how to progress with the game, but I'll do my best! Still, any help is encouraged!**

**Have a nice night! Also, if any of you have any quotes, please tell me :D**


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